Spring in the Garden
Happy Spring! The past few weeks I haven’t had much time to write, as I’ve been working regularly outside to prepare our yard for spring and to plant our vegetable garden. As it heats up and I shift more towards my indoor hobbies, I hope to be writing and posting on a more regular schedule.
Several weeks ago, I spotted it. The first new leaves sprang from our fig tree, signaling that it was time for the yard to roar back to life. Every year, I await this crucial signal from the yard that the gardening mayhem is about to begin. In just a few short months the sweet aroma of the figs ripening will fill the air. Fresh tomatoes, peppers and basil will be at hand for salsa or panzanella. Sunflowers will be growing inches every day, towering over the other plants. The summer garden, with any luck, will be in full swing.
Though I returned to gardening on my own about five years ago, some of my fondest memories from growing up were getting outside with my family to pick tomatoes every evening from my parents’ garden. It was usually still hot outside, and I would be crawling under the plant trellises, harvesting every last cherry and pear tomato I could find. My mom often had homemade popsicles from frozen kool aid, and I remember sitting on their laps, covered in tomato plant oils and full of sugar, as content and happy as a kid can be.
This evening ritual of time in the garden continues to be a reliable, life giving part of my routine that gets me through the hot summers. It is a chance to still experience nature, despite the oppressive desert temperatures that trap us inside. This short, but vital retreat to the backyard each evening is a reprieve from the monotony of an indoor, man made life full of gadgets and screens.
One of the best moments in the summer is when the blackberries become ripe. They are only available for a few days, but I anticipate the moment all year. Nothing feels better than eating a warm, juicy blackberry you’ve just picked, as the cool breeze moves over the yard and pushes away the relentless daytime heat.
I love sitting out back with my own family, watching as the sky moves slowly from a reddish orange sunset to a blanket of stars. The birds begin their “come home” calls to each other, the bats come out to grab a quick evening snack, and if I’m very, very lucky I might even see our neighborhood owl make her way across the sky, hunting for little mice and critters across the backyards. A true treat, and a sighting we only get a few times each year.
So much of our lives is predictable by design, available on demand any time. I can buy blackberries any day of the year at my local grocery store. I can queue up any movie I want at will from my streaming services. The owl, the bats, the blackberries, the figs, these things are very special because they cannot be consumed on demand; these are the moments that only come if I am patient and present in my environment.